


Crash and Burn

by HeronBlueSuccumbs



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Circle Mages, Dalish Elves, Dalish Origin, Grey Wardens, The Harrowing (Dragon Age), Tranquil Mages
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27833701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeronBlueSuccumbs/pseuds/HeronBlueSuccumbs
Summary: A much darker take on warden Amell's recruitment story.Surana is present as a freshly captured Dalish elf undertaking her harrowing. Talented. Adept.Amell is an ambitious mage who's painstakingly built a reputation around his dream of one day being free of the tower. When this newcomer threatens his position, he scrambles to win the favor of First Enchanter Irving.
Kudos: 4





	1. Pride's End

Marahii scowled, glaring down at the belligerent "Mouse." It had taken to following her along the twisted paths of the fade like a mewling kitten. Given her past experiences with the shemlen chantry, she imagined this so-called "Harrowing" to be terrifying, cruel, and lacking vision. However, annoying was definitely not a characteristic she would have attributed to this short-sighted ritual. For a moment she considered the possibility that Irving had summoned this squeaky rat-spirit as a practical joke. Something aimed at terrified or overconfident apprentices with the tendency to emit fireballs when aggravated by creators-be-damned blabbering rats. Yet, given the grave consequences for a botched Harrowing and the fact that The First Enchanter bore the responsibility for every apprentices' well-being and success, she concluded this was a remote potentiality. Still, refraining from torching the incessantly squeaking vermin was gnawing on her nerves.

"Ah! A Spirit of Valor!" Mouse piped out in a grating, high-pitched tone. "What a smug spirit. Always thinks he's better than all who pass. I'm sure it must be grand standing out there in the open while I have to cower in the shadows."

"Must you whine about everything?" The slender elven mage grit out, never missing a beat, as she stalked forward.

"He won't help. There is no point in..."

Not bothering to respond to the spirit's greeting, a brilliant white light sprouted from Marahii's fingers causing Valor to screech in agony before collapsing in a gelatinous puddle at the elf's feet; feet that had barely paused while the spell was cast and merely continued their march forward to collect one of the being's staves.

Marahii dubbed the sloth demon's attempt at conversation "pointless" considering the fact that the creature wheezed out a sentence so slowly winter would be upon them by the time it finished a single thought. She brushed aside its offer to teach the vermin a new form and stalked towards the fire-rimmed arena that Mouse indicated as the stage for the final battle.

"But... but... If I learned how to be a bear, I won't be forced to run and hide." The rat complained in a tone that caused her fingers to prickle as the will to summon primal destruction danced through her veins. "I WOULD HELP YOU! I COULD... WE could defeat the demon together! You wouldn't fail!"

The woman, having reached her last nerve, abruptly ceased her otherwise unforgiving march and glared down at the rodent. "Will you shut up if I turn you into a bear?!"

"Um...What?"

"Ugh. It's a wonder, you know, how you aren't tiny, little rat bits in the sloth-demon's belly by now. Hell, I'd shed my very nature just to silence you. It seems worth it." Whatever image danced across her vision caused a gleeful look to soften her delicate features. 

* * *

  
  
  
Apparently, not all mortals care for rodents. Therefore, Mouse decided it best to return to a human form. Hopefully this transformation would invoke a sense of familiarity. He found her aversion to his small, fur-covered self odd given the fact that their King had numerous visions of cheese barrels and Logain rats playing across a dozen fade islands during his unconscious hours. The sight of desire demons morphing into cheese and mice then dancing about for the mortal king's amusement was equally demeaning and amusing.

"I … um... Well, if I am a bear, I would help you! Nothing would stand in our way."

Marahii rolled her eyes in response. "F.I.N.E."

Mouse, expecting their course to turn in the direction of the slumbering being, Sloth, began backtracking – only to stop short as the unmistakable feeling of magic, enhanced within the fade, jolted through his entire being. Turning, he began to voice a question before realizing his intended words spilled out in a growl. "I'm... a BEAR!" He joyfully exclaimed.

"Of course you somehow manage to adopt the most high-pitched, grating roar imaginable." The mage muttered bitterly, while striding towards the battleground.

Attitude aside, this young woman would be a delicious meal – one whose powers were worthy of him. Fantasizing about the sensation of casting spells outside the fade, bringing death and destruction to all mortals who failed to bend knee, lulled him into daydreams. He failed to noticed the conversation between the glorious mage and the rage demon Mouse had lured to the battleground in his place. Her hair shone like a beacon, stark white with brilliant blue eyes and flaring tattoos to match her snow-capped head. How glorious a queen she would make. His queen and slave both as they ruled from atop the Frostbacks striking fear in the hearts of the mortals now cowering in his place .. luscious... beautiful...

"Yeah... so very helpful. You overgrown rat."

With a jolt, Mouse was ripped from his reverie to find the rage demon's essence, now silenced, beginning to drift beyond the fade into obscurity. . . _Oh.. Oh .. Oops. Alright, I can salvage this. Appeal to her pitiful mortality – let kindness begin her demise_. Abandoning his bear features, the wicked thought brought a grin to his human face. "You are far more powerful than I imagined!" _That's right lay on the praise. Laden her with the acceptance and respect those young, naive apprentices crave. So bereft of affection, surrounded by templars_. "You cast down the demon so quickly, I barely had time to respond! So many trainees fell before I managed to reach them. And look what you have done for me. I am eternally grateful to you, friend. Even if I cannot escape this wretched place, at least I can step out of the shadows."

At this point, the mage had adopted a bored look as he proceeded with his carefully worded proposal. _Oh how I have dreamed of this moment_... "But if you find it in your heart, you and only you are capable of freeing me, letting me return to your world where once I came..."

_Wait..._

_What is that...sensation?_

_No! It must be the remnants of the rage demon. There's no way a green trainee could possibly..._

Glancing over to the smug-looking woman he realized his grave misjudgment.

_His fatal error.…._

_This was no mere apprentice, doe-eyed and innocent that stood before him._

_And throughout their entire journey through the fade, he had been the prey._

_She had played him, a pride demon that had ruled this portion of the fade since before time itself._

A cold, empty feeling descended upon him – unfamiliar … far beyond his scope of understanding. Is this... emotion? She's... she's feeding me …...dread? In a flash, he felt her mental barriers drop, permitting him to view the depths of his folly. By allowing her annoyance – her chosen emotion – to course through her veins, her true thoughts and intent were disguised, hidden from demonic magic. Every word. Every sentence. Every thought was deliberate. His mind swiveled back to the beautiful and terrible moment he realized this one had bested him: _This tiny being who stands before me … is no mere apprentice_. He gulped as emotion encased him – glorious and horrific – overwhelming every sense.

His predator inched closer, a playful smile dancing upon her lips, closing her fist abruptly, her spell complete, she let the very thing he craved consume him.

_My greatest enemy._

_My pride._

_My demise._

Howling in agony, the fade – his world – was swept from view, as brilliant white light burst through his vision, his being, until he was no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my opinion, this writing isn't 'up to par' with what I'd normally post. I cleaned it up a bit so we'll see if it stops bothering me. Anyhow, I found several Dragon Age fics while cleaning out my document folder. I was simply going to delete them, then I thought, what the hell?


	2. Green. The Venom in my Heart. The Color of my Robes.

_"Either you have an enviable memory, or a pitiable life, to know nothing of regret."_

_\- Sten_

* * *

"Daylen Amell, you are hereby summoned to the First-Enchanter's office within the hour. No delays." The woman before him hummed out the memorized notation in that eery, monotone voice shared by all tranquil.

"Look, I've had a long night and -"

"The First-Enchanter was adamant this summons be responded to immediately. I was to deliver this message. I have. Please proceed to the 3rd floor. His office is in the West-Wing Ser Amell."

"Obviously, I know where his office is, Lynn. I've been there hun-"

"My message has been completed. Thank you." With a curt nod and a robotic step that sent a shiver down his spine, the tranquil abruptly turned and proceeded through the dormitory to deliver another message, her chilling voice echoing through the corridor.

Belatedly, Daylen pondered his own sleep-addled stupidity at arguing with a tranquil. Gripping his head and emitting a low moan, he slipped on the leather sandals Jowan had gifted him for his 12th birthday. Then proceeded to Irving's office. _Why have I been summoned this early anyhow? I passed my harrowing a week ago._ _And_ _thanks to that bitch rolling in last year,_ _I’ve fallen to second place in Irving’s eyes. I_ _t's been made clear, that due to her supposedly awe-inspiring Harrowing and growing skills, she is receiving a room in the mage quarters while I am tossed on the back-burner, waiting like some paltry herbalist who barely survived to mage-hood._ _I get nothing but_ _a meager room on the upper floors._ Anger and jealousy bubbled through his veins as he turned along the curved stairwell, only for another wave of nausea to hit him like an anvil. _Also, note to self, kill Harold for slipping dwarven brewed ale in my celebratory beer_. Then again, it was probably laced with pity as well given the fact that "The Shining-Pupil" had fallen from grace, only to be replaced by that painted-shrew of an elf. _Maker's ass this hangover is only fueling my gall and now I sound like a spoiled brat. Blasted rumour-mill._

Arriving pale and slightly green, he paused at the heavy, oak door barring the tower from Irving's private study. The runes lining the barrier had been left inactive, allowing raised voices to drift from within. Both male. Yet unidentifiable. Behind the thick, wooden door, a private argument reached Daylen's ears.

"Highly unusual! She hasn't even -"

"Obviously, you need to keep a closer…"

"Absolutely not! You are a misguided fool to underestimate the seriousness of the situation."

"First Enchanter your first summons of the day has arrived." The monotone voice of Owain echoed throughout the chamber, ringing like a chantry bell in a mausoleum. Daylen winced and cursed himself. Another aspect of the tranquil that creeped him out – their inexplicable ability to notice the slightest change in atmosphere.

The heavy door swung open, revealing the purple-blotched face of Knight Commander Greagoir. His scowl only deepened at the sight of Amell; looking very much like a naughty child hiding cookies behind his back. Apparently, his presence wasn't deemed important enough for silence. The Knight Commander swiveled back in the direction of Irving and hissed in a threatening tone. "Do not think this discussion is over Irving. I have had enough of this loose rein and expect your Maker-given blessing by day's end. I must act immediately in regards to this threat!" Shoving Daylen aside, he stalked down the hall, drawing salutes from the Templar patrol as they meandered into the corridor. Several recruits were nearly bowled over by their Commander's anger-driven pace.

"Come in, Daylen" A hoarse voice hinting at long, drawn out arguments beckoned him inside.

Shutting the door behind him, a faint pulse of magical energy breezed by alerting Daylen that the runes had been activated to some silent command.

"First-Enchanter, good morning. I must say this meeting is unexpected as I was under the impression the Warden Commander wasn't arriving for another week's time."

"Duncan of The Grey arrived last night actually." Irving noted casually before waving a dismissive hand. He proceeded, without the slightest care to the taught expression nor the fists clenched at his new graduate’s side. "Anyhow, I had Marai.. Marrr.. Maker that girl's name is difficult to pronounce, show him to his guest quarters. Apparently that raid of darkspawn is turning into a blight or something so he arrived early and rather worn. Regardless lad, that is not the reason I called you here."

Shaking with barely contained anger, Daylen attempted to rein in his irate expression and calm his voice before Irving could glimpse at his disheveled, and openly hostile glare. After an awkward pause, he seemed to regain some modicum of control. "I was under the impression you had spoken to the order on my behalf prior to my Harrowing and recommend me as the new mage-recruit the wardens sought out." Despite realizing that his voice had become a dangerous hiss, he continued his protest. "In fact, I have been prepping for this opportunity for nearly three years. Meanwhile, that unharrowed bitch arrives to -"

"Enough!" The First-Enchanter's voice fell like a hammer, cutting off the anti-Marahii diatribe he had heard too many times before. "First, as I am certain you know given the fact gossip spreads faster than wildfire in this tower, Miss Mar- Marry...Marahii passed her trial yesterday afternoon and is now a fully fledged mage. You will address her with the respect owed to our fellow colleagues." The calm, level stare the old man shot at him only fueled his outrage. "Second, I promised to recommend you. And I did just that. Your exemplary skills, studies, and political machinations of circle politics speak for themselves. All of which were forwarded on the transcript I sent months before you completed your Harrowing and you know it. I won't lie, Duncan was … intrigued by our newest transfer and her record-breaking completion of The Harrowing. But my opinion has not swayed Daylen. The wardens would be a fool to pass you over. That said, acting like a petulant child is hardly the way to prove your abilities to The Warden Commander. Not to mention the fact you were too inebriated to heed last night's summons." Irving added gruffly while slumping in his chair, rubbing his temples as he leaned forward and closed his eyes. For the first time, Daylen noticed the deep circles encasing his mentor's features sending a stab of guilt through his gut. And another wave of nausea... _great_.

"I summoned you here to address a delicate matter." The First-Enchanter's voice, lowered to a harsh whisper, barely registered. "It's... Jowan."

"So, Marahii is playing tour guide to The Warden Commander, no doubt impressing him with her record time in the fade, and you call me here to ride-herd Jowan over one of his maker-be-damned pranks?!" His throbbing head and nausea throttled against the outrage and humiliations – both old and new – that he endured to secure both the First-Enchanter's and Knight Commander's letters of recommendation. Years of work, research, and sleepless nights danced across his vision – this was his ticket to freedom. He earned this. He spent three years running every demeaning templar errand Greagoir dreamed up, suffered the "templar-poodle" insults thrown in his face by those he once called friends. Three years of laboring like no other in the library, leaving his lovely Ann dejected and lonely with an empty promise of 'next time I'll make this up to you.' They had worked so hard to evade the templars' notice of their blossoming relationship and she trotted off with some enchanter, leaving him miserable and alone with his books and unreachable dreams of freedom. Even that bumbling puppy best-friend of his had supposedly snagged a girl...And that elf rides in on a whim and suddenly...

Some of his thoughts must have translated to Irving, as the old wheeze-bag was now glaring at him with a calculating look. "This is not about a harmless prank. Greagoir has eye-witness testimony stating that Jowan has been practicing blood magic."

_Wait what?!_

"First Enchanter, that's insane."

"It isn't."

"Well, if you prefer the synonym 'ludicrous' I have no qualms indulging you and your verbal fetishes."

"Daylen this is serious!"

"I beg to differ Ser. This is darkly humorous, possibly the stupidest scrap of fantastical gossip I've heard all year, but serious, no, no I think not." Daylen finished with a snort.

"Young man, I apologize for what I am about to say. However, it seems you need a good dose of reality both about Jowan and your chances at being recruited into the Warden Order."

Daylen's blood momentarily froze in panic before Irving wheezed on. "Jowan is scheduled to undergo the rite of tranquility. In my opinion, it is a harsh fate. However, in addition to his youthful stumble into blood magic, he has been gallivanting about with a chantry initiate. The girl has not only broken her vows but betrayed the circle. She leaked confidential information to Jowan in order to aid his escape. When or how I do not know." With a slam of his fist Irving's eyes grew hard and focused, his features lost all previous softness as he glared at some invisible foe. Vengeful hate twisted the old scholar's features so viciously that Daylen unwittingly took a step back. "And I will not allow her to go unpunished while Jowan is stripped of not only his magic but emotion. I will not!" The man finished with a hiss, before resuming his previously slumped posture. Daylen, too stunned by the venom in his mentor's voice, remained silent.

When Irving met his gaze once more, the kindly professor's eyes had regained their soft, studious nature as they bore into him. "I am sorry lad. But unless Duncan decides to forgo historical warden precedents and recruits two mages into the order, I am pained to say that he seems to be leaning towards Marahii. Yet, if you aid me in gaining proof that Greagoir's precious initiate is complicit in whatever nonsense Jowan is plotting, I will ship you from the circle to join the King's army. Upon your return, I will see to it that you are moved to the Senior Mages quarters. With his initiate shamed, Greagoir will be powerless to deny my request." Rising from his chair, the elderly enchanter gently escorted Daylen to his office door. "Think on it lad. Return before the evening meal is served with your decision." With a brief pat on the back and click of the door, Daylen found himself frozen in the corridor.

Before he could take a single step, or even process this unfathomable development, Jowan appeared out of thin air as if summoned by the Divine herself. He tugged Daylen’s hand into a vacant office with the eagerness of a young child. After twenty long minutes of listening to his friend gush about the mental resistance spell that elven bitch had taught him, Daylen's headache had blossomed into a full-blown migraine. And no, Jowan didn't know when to shut up.

"She was just there to pack up her things. I never dreamed she'd break a sacred rule of the circle for an apprentice like me! Maybe she was grateful for a friendly face when she woke up barfing from the lyrium side-effects. Damn that stuff really hits elves harder than humans huh?"

Jowan was pacing back and forth waving his hands over his head in a childish gesture Daylen imagined was his version of punctuating a sentence.

 _Just shut up._ He raised his fingers to his throbbing temples in a vain attempt to alleviate the pounding threatening to take over his consciousness.

"Anyway, I helped hold her hair back and carried a few boxes to her new quarters... oh! You know she's really rather pretty even if she's quieter and spookier than a tranquil half the time with that sixth sense of hers. Soooooooo.. once we began unpacking her stuff in her new room, which is soooooooo huge by the way, she helped me practice a dispelling chant. Oh Daylen, I truly believed all night that I would pass my Harrowing!"

 _Andraste's dimpled butt cheeks, man shut-up._ The fresh sneers of apprentices mocking him for continuing to share quarters with children and pimple-popping adolescents danced behind his closed eyelids, thrumming to the beat of blood pulsing through his head. In his imagination’s eye, his brain cells were shattering while memories of Dwarven ale wormed through his intestines.

Jowan having ceased his inane praise of Marahii, turned wide-eyed and hopeful to his best-friend since child-hood with a question on the tip of his tongue. "I asked her to help Lilly and I escape when I discovered the templars intend to make me tranquil, but she said she couldn't help until tomorrow. The First-Enchanter wrangled her into baby-sitting some warden. And I'm so terrified Daylen! What if tomorrow is too late?!"

_Wait, he... asked her first? Jowan?! Of all people..._

_And that... that painted shrew actually had the gall to complain about the blatant favoritism of The Warden Commander?! An opportunity he sacrificed everything for?!_

His mind momentarily overcame the prolonged beating the hangover had gifted. And a plan so delicious he nearly drooled snapped to the forefront of his mind. _She betrayed the circle by revealing the nature of the Harrowing to an apprentice. And not only failed to report Jowan's foolish plot to escape but his tryst with an initiate!_ In a horrible and beautiful moment, he knew his decision.

_Yes. He'll betray his life-long friend._

_But he'll also take that bitch down with Jowan. He won't suffer alone._

_Let's see how she likes it when he's being ferried across Lake Calenhad with Duncan, while she's slapped in chains next to Jowan._

"Of course I'll help Jowan. I just need that Rod of Fire and the permission slip she gave you."


End file.
